


The Charles Compass Trilogy

by SadaVeniren



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Beach House, Bottom Louis Tomlinson, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Top Harry Styles, Writer Louis, handyman harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-04-23 02:00:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19141312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadaVeniren/pseuds/SadaVeniren
Summary: Louis Tomlinson is a successful writer who rents a beach house on the Cape to try and finish the final book in his successful Charles Compass trilogy.





	The Charles Compass Trilogy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jacaranda_bloom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacaranda_bloom/gifts).



> Hello! I took the prompt: Louis is a successful writer who rents a beach house for the summer to finish his latest novel. Liam is the estate agent. Niall is a local dog walker that Louis meets on the beach. Harry is the handyman who comes to fix the seemingly never-ending array for issues at the house. Harry suspects some of the maintenance problems aren’t accidental.
> 
> This fic started as a strongly worded "fuck you" to New England summers but quickly evolved into a love letter to the writing process. I really hope that you like the fic Dee!! I thought you'd particularly enjoy the way writing was explored in this fic.
> 
> The novel series that Louis writes in this fic are all made up by me, so no they don't exist for people to go and read unfortunately :)
> 
> Thank you to Marissa and Molly for the beta and the .... Massachusettsing? The making sure my "I set this in the Cape but really it's based off of the CT beach house my friend lived in for 9 months" research wasn't too obvious.

When Louis had first come up with the idea to spend the summer on the Cape in a house to work on the final book in his Charles Compass trilogy, he’d done so with the idea that the house he would stay in was a beautiful, quiet, quaint little place. It would be right on his own private strip of beach so during his afternoon break he would walk along the beach with Cliff, soaking up the sun and the sea breeze, kicking his feet in the warm water. It would be relaxing and beautiful, the perfect backdrop to the epic mystery finale he had planned for the book.

And his realtor had delivered on the house. It was what Louis had considered a classic beach house: two stories, with a large living room complete with windows that brought in tons of light and a view of the ocean. The kitchen was smaller but serviceable, considering Louis only really planned to use the microwave - or the stovetop for the occasional one pot meal. 

There were two bedrooms upstairs, so he could have a guest over if he wanted, but he had no plans for that. Besides the open beachside patio there was a covered side patio that shot off from the living room. That was where Louis had set up his writing space. He only needed a small desk for his laptop but the room length dining table that was already there was where he laid out all his paper notes.

He had a mystery novel to write after all, and he needed to keep track of all the pieces somehow.

No, the house wasn’t the problem - well at least the look of the house. And he did have a mostly private strip of beach to himself, though he had to walk through a small patch of dunes to get to it. The house he had rented was on the end of the street, so he had no neighbor on one side, and his other neighbor was a good distance away from him where they both could, in theory, have loud parties well into the night and they’d only cause a minor disturbance to each other.

No the problem was that he had seemed to grossly misunderstand what a New England summer was, and more importantly, what a New England beach was. It was cold in the morning, the nice sea breeze he’d been imagining only adding to the chill in his bones. He hadn’t packed for it at all. He’d packed no sweaters, or joggers. He’d thought _summer_ and immediately gone for shorts and short sleeve shirts.

That was an easy fix though. He’d stocked up on some sweaters within the first two days of being here, and they had mostly worked at keeping him warmer. Because it wasn’t like the thin cotton linens in the bedroom were going to help him. Especially when there was no heat in the house. And wasn’t _that_ a pleasant thing to discover. The heat didn’t work in the house! Absolutely lovely.

And the kicker? The water. It was _freezing_. Well… he’d checked and apparently it was well above freezing, somewhere around 15C, but that was far, _far_ too cold for him. The realtor had said that by July the water could get up to 25C but at the end of May that sounded so far away. He didn’t want to wait over a month to finally get to comfortably dip his toes in the water. He’d decided on a beach house because he’d wanted the whole experience!

Louis looked out the beautiful windows, over the dunes at the morning sea, grey from the reflection of the clouds coming in. He was wrapped in a blanket, sipping from his mug of tea.

Oh. And of course. He couldn’t forget the thunderstorms that rolled in at least once a week.

He shuddered under the blanket and pulled it tighter around himself. Clifford jumped up onto the sofa, white wicker with a colorfully patterned cushion on it. Clifford loved it; Louis didn’t understand it. He should probably get his day started before the storm rolled in. He probably wasn’t going to get his afternoon walk in by the looks of it.

***

Louis had published his first novel at twenty. He’d written the first draft when he was sixteen, bored in school, he’d created the kind of story he knew would keep him entertained. Owen Flaherty was an MI-6 agent who went undercover as a football coach on a plane ride to the Champions League final and saved the day rescuing Manchester United from plane hijackers.

Very little of the first draft had made it to the published piece but the overall idea had stayed true and almost overnight Louis had become the new Ian Fleming, publishing a new novel every year detailing the exploits of a cast of MI-6 agents who did crazier and crazier undercover work. 

Reviewers loved how he mixed comedy in with the serious situations he put his characters in, and he constantly got compliments on how _funny_ and pleasant his writing was. The perfect airplane read. The perfect beach read. The perfect holiday read. The perfect quick read. If you wanted a fun ride pick up a Tomlinson book.

He had BBC knocking on his proverbial door begging to do adaptations, and with the help of his manager, Liam, he’d finally approved one contract that allowed for a mini-series adaptation of Owen Flaherty. It was in its third season now: twelve strong and raved about episodes.

That had been the turning point for him. He’d sat down with Liam and told him he was thinking about writing in a slightly different genre. And he already had a book series in mind.

“We’ll start with a similar Tomlinson premise,” Louis began his pitch. “MI-6 agent, but this isn’t the Flaherty era. It’s not connected with that at all. And our agent is retiring, going to have a nice and simple life after serving.”

Liam’s face was blank as he listened to Louis spin the story of Charles, someone who’s entire life was scrubbed after he left the agency, a nameless man, until his flat was broken into and he was kidnapped by old enemies. Tortured and memory erased he’s left in the middle of a street only to be found by a group of civilians.

“Would you actually write a torture scene?” Liam asked.

“I think this series would call for something more than what I normally do. I’m seeing it as grittier and really leaning into the noir and mystery genre. I think it would be challenging and fun. Anyway the actual main character _isn’t_ Charles. He’s just the driving force of the real main characters, who are these civilians. We’ve got a night nurse, Ben, a taxi driver, Ibrahim, and a teacher, Ella.”

“You aren’t shoehorning in a romance are you? You’re crap at romance writing.”

“No, no, the three of them are strictly platonic. Their journey is about discovering what happened to Charles and also growing themselves as they begin exploring this whole side of a world they’ve never even heard about before.”

Liam was silent for several moments and then he nodded. “Give me a draft and I’ll start shopping it to the normal publishers. And maybe a few that have never been used before if you say it’s so different.”

***

The first of the Charles Compass series was a record breaker. People ate up the concept of civilians trying to maneuver the spy world. They especially loved the voices of the new characters.

_Ella starts off strong and only gets stronger as the driving force in Tomlinson’s new trio. Her compassion is what leads her to want to help and even as she, Ben, and Ibrahim fall deeper into darkness she never loses that core aspect of herself. As the first narrator of the books she was fresh and a guiding factor in the enjoyment of Tomlinson’s latest series._

The second book came out two years after the first, with Louis taking more time to make sure he got the nuances of Ibrahim’s character and perspective down. Ibrahim was the pacifist of the group, wanting little to do with the violence Charles unwittingly brought with him, but unable to help himself when it came to the puzzle of Charles’ past. It was a true mystery novel, featuring different twists and turns as Ibrahim unwound as much as he could. The book had even made Liam get a little emotional as Louis delved into the familial relationship that was ultimately Ibrahim’s grounding point.

“You didn’t have to kill his father,” Liam said.

“Killing the mom is overdone. And besides he’s not really dead. It was a body double. Agent Williams is on their side despite the fact he hates Charles. He’s gotten Ibrahim’s father back to Marrakech. Finding out he’s alive and Williams is an ally will be a big moment in the final book.”

“But won’t it take away from Ben’s book?”

“No, because Ben’s gonna be the one to find him.”

Which brought him to the final book. Ben’s book as he privately considered it. He hadn’t intended for Ben to be based on him as much as he was but as he started adding details of his mum’s life to Ben’s (night nurse - midwife - similar enough for his research purposes) Ben began to grow in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Maybe it was because he’d left Ben as the last one he gave a voice to, that had allowed him to grow out of control. Louis had spent the first couple passages trying to reintroduce himself to Ben, so he could understand his motives and desires.

Ella had wanted to help. Ibrahim wanted to solve puzzles and now, find peace with what happened to his family. But Ben. Now he just wanted it all to end. He wanted to keep his friends safe. He wanted Charles gone. What had originally been an adventure for him had morphed and shifted to something he didn’t want any part of and it seemed like there was no way to have a happy ending. Something was going to be missing. They would have to sacrifice something.

Louis already knew it was going to be Charles. Charles was never meant to survive to the end of the books, because it wasn’t his story. But Ben was fighting him tooth and nail to get words on the page, and to follow through with the plot. Louis knew that if he just got Ben to Marrakech. If he just got Ben to find Ibrahim’s father it would be okay and things would fall into place.

That was his struggle right now, and it was worse than any type of block he’d had before but dammit he was gonna fix it come hell or high water.

***

“Your heat is perfectly fine,” Harry said as he came out of the closet that held the boiler. “It’s just these older beach houses, you know? I tell you this every time.”

Louis was still wrapped in his blanket. It was ten in the morning in the beginning of June and it had no business being 15C outside. He had his blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he shivered to make a point to Harry. He _liked_ Harry. Harry had been a welcome surprise when he’d contacted Liam to find him a handyman. Harry was also British, from a town not too far from where Louis had grown up, so they had been able to talk about life back home while Harry had gone about trying to fix his heat a couple weeks ago.

“If my heat was perfectly fine then why is it freezing down here?”

Harry looked over at the steps that lead up to the bedrooms and he took a couple steps over so he was standing right on the first step. “Can’t you feel the heat upstairs? It must get boiling at night.”

“The heat _upstairs_ works just fine. But why isn’t it as warm _down here_? If it’s all one big unit like you said the first three times you’ve been here?”

Harry looked over at the beautiful windows that looked out at the ocean. “Well those windows are pretty drafty so that’s probably what it is. Besides these houses aren’t meant to keep heat in, you want them to breathe after all, with the sea breeze.”

“So you’re telling me there’s nothing you can do to fix it?”

The look Harry was giving him was one Louis was becoming used to. He wore it frequently. “In a couple days it’ll get up to 28 or 30 and you’ll be more than comfortable. If it’s too cold down here for you why don’t you just work upstairs? I know this house has another guest bedroom you could write in.”

Louis huffed. “I’m not writing upstairs. That’s not where my writing space is. I have the patio and the patio should be perfectly fine to write in because it’s almost summer and it’s the beach and so it should have been warm enough here for me to comfortably write.”

Harry just kept smiling. “Well most people are aware that it’s cooler at night and so it takes a couple hours to warm up. It’ll be close to 25C today by one or so.”

“But that doesn’t help me _now_. When I’m supposed to be writing. At one I’ve eaten lunch and am taking Cliff on his walk.” Louis was whining and he knew as a thirty-five year old that wasn’t the most becoming look but he couldn’t help it. “My writing schedule.”

Harry’s face shifted to be more sympathetic. “Have you ever thought about changing the schedule around? Sleeping in a bit later and writing in the afternoon when it’s warmer?”

“Harry. I’ve been a writer for two decades now, and publishing for fifteen years. I’m not going to just _change my tried and true schedule_. Do you know what that could do to my process?”

“What could it do?”

Louis made an aborted gesture with his hand as he got a draft inside the blanket. “I could write something _bad_!”

“I really doubt that’s possible, Louis. I don’t mean to stroke your ego but you’re quite a talented author.”

For some reason hearing that from Harry made him blush a little. He ducked his head. “I need to get this draft to my editor by September first.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. May and June are still really cold. It starts getting warm in July and August especially. Trust me, soon you’ll be calling me begging me to install air conditioning units in your windows.”

“Not possible.”

Harry winked. “Is there anything else you need right now or was it just the heat?”

Louis sighed. “Just the heat. Thanks for trying.”

***

The point of renting a house for the summer was to help with his concentration. When he was back home in London he found ways to distract himself from writing, whether it was to meet up with an old friend, or to see his family, there was always something going on. Here on the Cape there was only a couple people he saw with any regularity. Harry - who was spending the summer fixing a family friend’s house and generally being a friendly person by offering to fix other people’s houses too - and a man named Niall, who walked six dogs to the end of the beach every day at noon and four.

Clifford always alerted him to Niall’s presence by barking as loud as possible to be let out so he could greet the other dogs. It was Louis’ new alarm to get him up for lunch. The heat still wasn’t working and the mornings were still chilly but at least it was starting to warm up inside the house by eleven. Louis was able to drop his blanket by then which allowed him to actually type and try and get some words out.

Ben was being frustrating as usual. He didn’t want to go to Marrakech. He wanted to stay in London and try and deal with everything there but the plot wasn’t going to allow it. At the end of the last book he’d separated the trio - or tried to. Ibrahim had gone east, into the continent, headed towards Russia. Ella had gone north with Charles to try and find more about his past (she would find nothing and end up in Sweden for her troubles - but she’d be fine). And Ben - he needed to _leave_ and find Ibrahim’s father.

He refused and nothing Louis was doing was making it possible to move him there short of knocking him out and just having him wake up there.

Clifford’s barking was a greatly appreciated distraction. Louis got up and let Cliff run out into the dunes, excited to see Niall and the dogs. Louis heard Niall’s laughter and the barking of seven dogs before he saw them all. Today at least seemed to be sunny, which was good considering the storm the other day.

Niall had let the seven dogs off their leashes and they were running around in the sand. “Hey, Tommo! Bother Harry yet today?”

Louis winced as he stepped on a shell in the sand, but he wasn’t going to go back into his house to put sandals on. Besides, today was warming up so the sand felt kinda good on his bare feet. “No, I left him alone. But it’s been so cold downstairs, I can’t work until much later than normal.”

“Wish I knew how that was but the house me and the boyfriend rented doesn’t suffer from any of that. Doesn’t hurt that it’s away from the water though.” Niall’s eyes drifted to keep his attention on the dogs as they played and jumped around at the edge of the water. “How goes the novel?”

Louis huffed. Since Niall was one of the only people he ever saw he had managed to worm his way into getting too many details about the new book by being a soundboard for Louis. And now it was too good of a thing for Louis to stop even if he wanted to.

“I still can’t get Ben to Marrakech. He just won’t go. I’ve thought of everything: drugging him, doing a time skip, forcing him at gunpoint.”

“Have you thought about having someone ask him to go?”

“Who could ask him? He only trusts Ella and Ibrahim and they are both off elsewhere. The only other person who could is Williams but Ben doesn’t trust him and if Williams said _go to Marrakech_ Ben would fly to, I don’t know, Alaska.”

“Make up a new character,” Niall said with a shrug.

“I can’t just make up a new character so late in the series. It’s poor form. Especially just to force Ben somewhere,” but even as he said it something was beginning to form in the back of his head.

Writing for Louis always felt like he was just a conduit for an already written story. He was just there to unravel it and put it into words. He’d given a talk once at a university about this idea, how when he discovered a new thread it wasn’t so much he came up with the idea as he _discovered_ the answer. It was always there, he just hadn’t met it yet. The same went for characters. They were there, with their motivations and backstories, but he hadn’t found them yet.

He was finding a new character now. The character was taking shape in his mind: tall, friendly smile, green eyes. Antoine. A French agent. Someone Ben doesn’t want to trust but who worms his way in and gives him no option. His motivations for now were a mystery, but it would be enough. Ben would follow him to Marrakech with Antoine acting as his guide in this new place.

Yes, this was a good idea. Louis was already backing up, whistling for Clifford to follow him. He only paused when he saw that Cliff was squatting, taking a shit.

“Fuck,” Louis said as he patted his sides. He didn’t have any poop bags.

“I got you,” Niall said, handing him one of his many. “Can’t have too many as a dog walker.”

Louis went over and cleaned up after Clifford, who was back to frolicking in the sand now that his business was done. “Come on Cliff, let’s go inside.” He gave Niall a salute with his free hand. “You just gave me an idea and I want to get it down. I’ll talk to you later Niall.”

“No problem! Good luck! Have fun! Remember I’m the person you’re dedicating the novel to!” Niall called before he whistled to round up his six dogs to get them back on their leashes.

Louis got back inside and immediately went back into his writing room. He’d grab food later.

***

Antoine was fascinating to write. He breathed so much life back into Ben, giving him the push he needed to go to Marrakech and find Ibrahim’s father. The reunion scene and reveal where Ben found out Williams had been the one to save Ibrahim’s father took him the better part of a week to get down, just because of the emotion behind it. Ben wouldn’t be able to tell Ibrahim for several more chapters but now the relationship between Ben and Williams had been repaired, and it was all thanks to Antoine.

It caused him to continue in a frenzy, writing what came next now that Antoine was in the picture. From Marrakech they got a lead that took them to Egypt. Louis had always known they would meet back up with Ibrahim in Romania and he was excited to see how Ibrahim would react to Ben having found a new member of the team.

At least, he would be. If his power hadn’t gone out.

It wasn’t even storming, how was this fair?

Clifford barked from the living room before he padded into Louis’ writing room. He cursed, the house dark. It had to happen at night too, didn’t it? It was just before nine and it was too dark to be able to see anything, even with the summer equinox happening tomorrow.

But he couldn’t stop writing. His laptop battery was full and he’d get two extra hours out of it. Would that be enough though?

Louis chewed on his bottom lip before he grabbed his phone and texted Harry.

_Are you free to make a home visit right now? I’ll pay you extra_

His phone started ringing a few minutes later, as he’d gotten back to writing. He only answered it because it was Harry.

“What happened?”

“Hi, sorry, my power’s out and there’s no storm so I think something happened?”

“Did you pay your electric bill?” Harry asked, his voice shifting from the almost panicked response it had been to light and teasing like he normally had when he spoke with Louis.

“It’s included in the rent of the place, so I better have. I’m in the middle of writing and my laptop only has two hours at most without being plugged in. I _cannot_ lose this inspiration. I’m at a pinnacle scene.”

He heard Harry let out a sigh and if he could feel fondness through a phone that’s what he would be wrapped in. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“You’re the best.”

Louis hung up and went back to writing. It strained his eyes to the point he had to take off his computer glasses just to get them to focus, but he was in the middle of such an intense scene. 

Antoine had led Ben to an informant and they were questioning him together. The tension was rising in the room, and for the reader, because this would be the first time they would see what Ben was truly capable of. Had he transformed into a monster, and lost himself to the spy world? It would be different than the violence Ella had partook in, in her book. Hers had been about survival. Kill or be killed. Ben has a choice, and Antoine is behind him, coaching him through it all.

Louis didn’t know where it was going to lead. He didn’t know if after this scene he would find himself in a dark place he hadn’t intended to follow Ben to, and then how would he backtrack from it? How far back would he have to go in the rewrites to stop this from happening? Or was this how it was always supposed to go?

“Ask him about Bucharest,” Ben asked Antoine. “What’s waiting for us there?”

Antoine repeated the question in slow, calculated Romanian. Or at least Ben was pretty sure it was Romanian. Even several months into this crazy spy world he hadn’t picked up on enough yet to begin to identify every language used.

Florea spit in Antoine’s face. Antoine’s green eyes went dark and dangerous as he stood up. His shoulders rolled and Ben couldn’t take his eyes away from the way the muscles looked as he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

KNOCK KNOCK

It was the only warning Louis had before Harry popped his head inside, greeting Clifford with enthusiasm.

“Hello, who’s a good boy, yes you are! You weren’t kidding about having no power,” Harry called.

“I’m writing!” Louis answered, eyes not leaving his computer screen. He was at an impasse again. What was Antoine about to do? “Come on,” he whispered, closing his eyes, trying to visualize the scene. “Talk to me.”

“Do you think something got switched off because of a surge?” Harry asked, his voice distant. Louis had no idea what he was doing or on about.

“I’m trying to torture information out of a man!” Louis said, opening his eyes because nothing was coming to him.

The lights flicked back on and blinded him for a second.

“Jesus,” he muttered, just as Clifford started barking again at the sudden light change.

“Did you even try and see if it was the breaker? Cause that’s what it was.” Harry said as he came into the writing room. He was only wearing a thin tank top and loose joggers that hung low on his hips.

Louis tried not to look. He had to finish this scene. “What part of ‘I’m writing’ did you miss?”

“Yeah, yeah you’re torturing someone. Why are you doing that again? Haven’t you heard, you get more information out of honey than vinegar.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how the saying goes.”

“Is Ben doing the torturing? He doesn’t seem like the type. That would be a crazy turn, since he’s the nurse you know? He’s all about fixing things. At least that’s how he was in the first two books.”

“You’ve read my books?” Louis asked, caught off guard.

“Of course I have. I’ve told you that you were a brilliant writer because I honestly believe it. My sister loves Ella so much. She says it’s so rare to find a female character who is _good_ without being a bastion of purity.”

“That’s my Ella,” Louis said with a smile, but then he let out a breath. He already bounced ideas off Niall, talking with Harry wasn’t going to hurt anyone. “Ben’s not torturing anyone directly. He’s there with Antoine, and they’re questioning someone.”

“Who’s Antoine?” Harry asked.

“French special service. He was brought into this because he was following ElderGuise.” ElderGuise was the name of the group who was after Charles.

“Following ElderGuise or working for ElderGuise?” Harry asked, but it didn’t seem to be directed at Louis. It was more something he was saying aloud. Musing to himself about Louis’ writing.

Louis opened his mouth to answer but then paused. He wasn’t one hundred percent positive himself. Williams thought he was following ElderGuise from the French side, but… had Louis even put ElderGuise in France at all? He was pretty sure he hadn’t, and it had been deliberate. ElderGuise didn’t work in France because of the incident in 1971.

“Because you know, if he’s working for ElderGuise then there’s a certain sickness in corrupting Ben and making him turn in on himself. But if he’s not then wouldn’t he want to keep Ben innocent? Is that still a theme you’re going with, or was the whole ‘you’re kids you don’t know what you’re doing’ something Ella and Ibrahim went up against because Ella is a woman and Ibrahim is black and so you had the added layer of authorities infantilizing their characters, and you’re showing the one-two sexist and racist punch in how Ben is being treated differently.”

Louis’ mind was going a million miles a moment as he tried to work everything out. “No. I mean yes, that’s something that’s happening, but no Antoine doesn’t- he’s not billed himself as an authority figure like Williams. He’s an equal to Ben. They work together.”

Harry pursed his lips. “Interesting.”

“Yeah,” Louis said, eyes going back to his computer screen. “Thanks for fixing the lights. I just. Need to get back to this.”

“Right, right. I’ll show myself out. Have a good night, Louis.” Harry said giving him a wave.

Louis wasn’t paying attention as he left.

***

Was Antoine a double agent? That was the question Louis was trying to tackle. Ben wouldn’t be able to see it if he were, too caught up in the facade Antoine was giving him. But Harry brought up a good point. If Antoine was actually part of ElderGuise that worked for France he’d want Ben to go down a path of torture, corrupting him more and more as he went. It would bring him pride as a bad guy.

Or was Antoine a double-double agent? Evil from the start, but slowly seeing the good in people through Ben’s actions.

Through Ben’s _fixing things_.

Louis caught sight of the time in the top hand corner of his computer. Two AM.

He still didn’t have the answer, but he had words on the page.

***

Florea spit in Antoine’s face. Antoine’s green eyes went dark and dangerous as he stood up. His shoulders rolled and Ben couldn’t take his eyes off the way the muscles looked as he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

“He knows nothing,” Antonie said. “We’ll leave him here.” He said something else in Romania as he threw his jacket over his shoulder, turning a smile to Ben. “Someone will find him soon. Come on, I’ll get you lunch before we get on the plane.”

“The plane?” Ben asked, looking back and forth between Antoine and Florea.

“Best way to face any problem is to tackle it head on, don’t you think?”

***

“Do you remember a couple weeks ago when you told me you’d never need me to install an air conditioning unit?” Harry asked as he put the unit in Louis’ bedroom window.

“Don’t remind me. Just please save me from this heat.”

“These old houses are absolutely garbage for window units. You’re lucky that these windows fit one.”

Louis hadn’t been able to sleep last night because the heat and humidity had consumed him. He’d slept on top of the covers of the bed, spread out naked because of it. He didn’t even want to touch his own skin, and he still felt that way.

“I already know that, since I can’t get any in my writing room. I’m doomed to die in there.”

Harry grunted as he slid the window unit in, the metal squeaking dangerously as it tipped back and forth before Harry got the window slammed down over it, holding it in place. “Have you tried swimming?”

“I have to write,” Louis said.

“You know, I’m really confused why you rented a _beach house_ when you aren't taking advantage of the one major selling point about it.”

“Which is?”

It took a moment longer for Harry to answer as he secured the unit with screws, and then plugged it in. Cool air started to spill from it and Louis immediately went in front of the unit, breathing in the stale, cold air.

“The beach.”

“Huh?” Louis asked.

“The major thing about a beach house. It’s the beach. The water’s still cold as shit but this hot it’ll feel so good.”

“But my writing.”

“You said you can’t write in your writing room. Take the day off. You’re allowed that, aren’t you?”

Louis frowned. He was still sticky, even with the cold air blowing on him, so water wouldn’t be a bad idea. And Harry _was_ right about taking advantage of the beach part of his beach house.

“Will you stay?” Louis asked him.

“What?” Harry seemed surprised.

“Stay with me and go swimming. It seems kinda boring to do it alone.” Louis looked back at him. He watched as Harry looked down at himself, and then back at Louis.

“I don’t have any clothes.”

“Skinny dipping never hurt anyone.”

“Except anyone who’s had a crab pinch their dick,” Harry said too fast for it not to be a thing he’s thought about frequently.

“Swim in your pants then, I don’t care.”

Harry nodded. “Alright.”

***

“Tell me about Antoine,” Harry asked as they both tread water, only just far enough off the coast to not be touching the bottom.

“I thought you didn’t want me writing,” Louis said. His teeth were no longer chattering as he’d gotten used to the temperature of the water. It was still cold, but Harry had been right, with the heat of outside, the water felt amazing.

“I never said that. Besides, talking about your writing isn’t the same as actually writing, right?”

Louis dunked under the water and the salt burned his chapped lips. He shook his head as he came out, spraying water on Harry. “I think Ben is in love with Antoine.”

Harry gasped and smacked the water with his hands. “Ben’s _gay_?”

“Or at the very least, Ben’s enamored with Antoine,” Louis continued, ignoring Harry’s outburst. Everyone who had eyes should have known Ben was gay from the first book. He’d made an off handed comment to Ibrahim that got passed the editors.

“Does Antoine feel the same way? Is Antoine a _honey pot_?”

Louis laughed, swallowing some water. He coughed and hacked. “No. He’s not a honey pot. But he’s not… a good guy.”

Harry’s eyes were wide. “ElderGuise. Oh no. _Ben_.”

“I think he wants to be a good guy though,” Louis said slowly. “I think he feels like there’s no way he can but Ben makes him believe he can do good.”

“He’s not corrupting Ben, Ben is saving _him_. Louis! You’re writing a romance story! You really are going genre defying with this series just like we all knew you could!”

“What are you, my manager? How many of my books have you read?”

“Seriously? All of them. I love crime stories. Haven’t I told you this?”

“No?”

“Maybe you just haven’t been paying attention when I started talking about the _themes you use_ in your story to address sexism and racism. Or anything I’ve said because you’ve been too focused on writing this book.”

Louis was slowing down in his treading as he looked at Harry. His arms were getting tired trying to keep his head above water. “Come on, let’s go lie on the beach.”

***

Louis never planned on sleeping with a fan. He never really planned on sleeping with anyone. He’d gotten his rocks off in uni, and had a steady boyfriend for a couple years in his twenties, but since the fame really kicked off he’d been mostly alone, focused on his writing.

What he means is he’s completely unsure what modern etiquette for pulling someone counts as. And he really only has one other person to ask, since he sure as hell isn’t going to ask Liam (he doesn’t need that discussion in his life)

“Niall, how can you tell if someone is into you?” Louis asked as they watched the dogs run around together. This was the four o’clock set of dogs, who Clifford didn’t get along with quite as much with, but Louis hadn’t been able to work up the gumption to come out and ask Niall during lunch.

Niall gave him a look. “What are we, twelve? We ask like normal human beings. Or just suck each other dicks, or swipe left on Grindr or whatever.”

“I thought it was swipe right?” Louis asked.

“How should I fucking know, I’m in a committed relationship and have never used the fucking thing before because when I was on the pull we still did that shit in clubs or your office job or whatever. The point is, we’re big boys and if we want to get our dicks wet we just ask and hope for the best.”

“That was an inspiring talk.”

“Good. If you use any of that for your book I’m charging you royalties.”

Louis laughed. “I’m not gonna use it in the book. I don’t even know who would say that.”

“Ella, clearly. Probably to Ibrahim and then Ben would have to step in and be _practical peacemaker_.”

***

Louis didn’t use Niall’s words in his book.

He used them in real life.

Well. An abridged version of them. Sorta. With some improve.

They were mildly successful.

***

“Are you positive the sink was clogged up?” Harry asked as he looked in the empty sink. “Cause I really don’t want to get under it and have filthy water spray all over me.”

“I’m positive,” Louis said. He’d shoved enough shit down there. “I guess it’s just draining super slow?” He was a terrible actor and Harry’s arched eyebrow told him all he needed to know about how much Harry believed him.

Harry peeked down the drain, a frown marking his perfect face. “Did you…. shove a whole plastic bag down here?”

“Uh… Clifford did it?”

“What the fuck, Louis?” Harry asked, running his hand through his hair. “Why would- what possessed you to put a plastic bag down the drain?”

“I wanted an excuse for you to come over so we could talk… like adults?”

“You could have just asked! Like an adult!” Harry put his hands out in front of him. “Okay. I’m going to pull this - _shit_ \- out of your drain and then we’ll talk.”

“We can talk while you work?”

“No, I’m too agitated that you would even… why did you think this was a good idea?”

“Niall suggested it.”

“I really doubt this is what Niall suggested,” Harry said, huffing as he got to work extracting the plastic bag, and the chicken carcass, Louis had thrown down there in an attempt to make it enough of a problem to warrant calling Harry over so they could talk. “I hate you so much,” Harry muttered.

“I really hope not, cause that’s gonna make this conversation really short,” Louis muttered and Harry cursed as he dropped some of the chicken bones in surprise.

Thank god it was back into the sink and not on the ground where Clifford seemed to be eagerly awaiting them.

***

“You know for a writer you are absolutely horrible at communication,” Harry said as he dried his hands. They’d gotten filthy cleaning out the drain and Louis had to admit he felt bad about that, just a little.

“Writers aren’t good at _talking_. We’re good at _writing_. It’s totally different.”

“Most people just go ‘hey I think you’re hot’ not back up their kitchen sink in hopes it’ll get their plumber to come over. This isn’t a porno, Louis. We’re adults.”

“Well why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I was positive you weren’t interested! You always just wanted to be writing. I figured you were married to your work at this point and it’s not like we’d see each other after this summer anyway.”

“But… don’t you live in London? I thought you were only here for the summer because of your friend? Jeff?”

Harry sighed. “Plenty of people live in London, Louis. Doesn’t mean we’d meet up.”

“Would you… want to meet up?”

“I mean… _hey I think you’re hot_ ,” Harry said.

Louis grinned. “I think you’re hot too.”

Maybe Niall had been right. Maybe it was as easy as that. _Hello. You’re hot. Let’s suck some dick._

Louis was about to open his mouth to try and suggest that but he was cut off by Harry kissing him. He gripped Harry’s shoulder, trying to hold him in place so as to get some level of control over the kiss, but Harry was too much. Louis had no option but to hold on for the ride.

He wrapped a leg around Harry’s waist, even though it felt a little desperate to do. Harry didn’t seem to mind though, because he cupped the back of his thigh and lifted him up, pressing him back against the kitchen counter. Louis’ hand left Harry’s shoulder to reach out, smacking against the cupboards for some leverage. Together they lifted him up onto the kitchen counter, letting Harry settle in between his legs.

They broke the kiss, desperate for air.

“This good?” Harry asked.

“Let’s suck some dick?” Louis asked back.

Harry paused for a moment but whatever he was going to say was interrupted by Cliff barking and nudging against Harry’s leg. They looked down at him and Louis couldn’t help himself as he giggled.

Clifford barked again, wagging his tail. 

“I’m gonna let him out really quick but maybe we can move this upstairs? Away from interruption?” Louis asked, looking up through his eyelashes at Harry.

Harry gave him one more kiss. “I’ll be upstairs then?”

Clifford took what felt like forever outside, running around and getting his energy out. Louis stood on the edge of the dunes watching as Cliff ran back and forth, playing in the edges of the water. He didn’t want to call him in too soon, before he’d done all his business, because Louis knew once he was back inside him and Harry weren’t coming up for air for awhile.

***

“Too much?” Harry asked. He was lounging naked on Louis’ bed, taking up much more space than Louis remembered himself taking up. Was the bed really that small? Must have been because Harry had put himself smack in the middle of the bed.

Harry raised his eyebrow, gesturing to his hardening cock as he waited for Louis to answer. Louis knew he wouldn’t be able to answer though. His mouth was dry at the sight of Harry. He was long and hard - and Louis wasn’t just talking about his dick. The work he’d done all summer was obvious in the way his muscles played under his skin.

Louis turned around and fiddled with the aircon to distract himself from the sight of Harry.

“You know normally people don’t _turn away_ from me when they see me naked,” Harry said casually. 

Too casually.

Louis peeked back and saw Harry had wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking himself. He swallowed. “You know the temperature in this room goes erratic. I kept meaning to call you to fix it.”

“Fix it, huh? I can fix the temperature for you.” Louis watched as Harry’s hand dropped from his cock and he patted the bed with his hand. “Come sit on my lap.”

Louis couldn’t contain his snort. “That’s your pick up line? Really?” He looked at Harry’s lap as he started to undress. “I… don’t have any condoms. Got some lube in the side table.”

Harry leaned over before Louis could finish what he was saying. He let out a low whistle. “Got more than some lube in here. This drawer is deceptively deep.” 

“Leave the dildo alone,” Louis said as he finished undressing. “We don’t need that today do we? Unless. Well no condom.”

“I have one.”

Louis frowned. “You have a condom?”

“Carry one in my wallet at all points in time. Can never be too prepared,” Harry said as he leaned over the other way and shuffled through his clothes to get his wallet out.

“You know that’s bad for the condom right? How long has that condom been in there?”

Harry took the condom out and put it on the bed. “Switched it fresh today. Scouts honor.”

Louis looked at the condom packaging for a moment and then decided it didn’t look too worn. He climbed up onto the bed, straddling Harry’s thighs.

The tension in the room changed. Harry sat back against the pillows, hands going to Louis’ hips, pulling him closer.

“So, uh, how do you want to do things?” Harry asked.

Instead of answering Louis leaned down and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck as he sunk into the kiss. Harry was a good kisser. And Louis was lucky to take the time to enjoy it, truly experience it.

Harry gripped his hips, sliding him just a bit closer, so their bare chests were touching.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Harry whispered against his lips as they broke for air.

“You’re one to talk.” Louis arched into him, gasping as he felt Harry’s slide from his hips to his bum.

“This okay?”

“I’m about to let you fuck it, so you might as well be able to touch it.”

Harry’s eyes were wide with reverence before he leaned up and kissed Louis again. “I’ll take care of you.” 

“I know.”

“Treat you so well.” That was accompanied by a squeeze to his bum.

“You better,” Louis said. He moved his lips over, kissing Harry’s jaw and then down his neck. He could feel the way it made Harry react, shivering under him. And his cock twitched too, of course. Couldn’t forget that. “Can you get the lube?”

“So bossy,” Harry said but he let go of Louis’ bum and followed Louis’ instructions.

Louis jumped as he felt the first cool, wet touch. He couldn’t tell right away if Harry was taking his time and teasing him, or if trying to prep him blind was causing problems. Harry’s lubed finger swiped over his hole, just enough pressure to make him clench in anticipation.

But not enough to enter him.

Then he did it again. And again. Swiping, soft pressure, but not the penetration Louis wanted. He whined low in his throat as he ducked his face into Harry’s neck.

“You know if you need help I can change positions.”

Harry’s laugh was dark and low as he kissed Louis’ temple. “Just taking my time. Treating your arse right. That’s what you wanted.”

He took his hand away and Louis whined again, higher pitched this time. More desperate. Didn’t Harry know he hadn’t been touched like this in _years_? It had just been him and his collection of dildos.

Harry’s finger was wetter when he came back, swirling against his hole.

Louis’ body was wound so tight from the teasing that when Harry _finally_ pressed a finger inside him he let out the most embarrassing sound of surprise and relief. He gripped Harry’s shoulders and tried to relax. Harry was holding him steady as he began to open him up.

“It’s okay,” Harry whispered.

“Better than good,” Louis said through gritted teeth. He didn’t want to dissolve into a whimpering mess. “So fucking good.”

Harry chuckled, kissing his temple again just as he added a second finger. “You feel so good. Gonna feel good around me.”

Louis nodded, face going back to his shoulder. He bit down on the flesh, drawing a sharp gasp from Harry and a curl of his fingers. It was like a loop of pleasure, especially when Louis felt his cock jump in pleasure, rubbing against Harry’s.

Harry didn’t remove his fingers until he had gotten three tucked comfortably inside him.

“Gotta make sure you’re treated right,” he reminded Louis with only a hint of teasing.

“I’m sure you will,” Louis said. He already had a sheen of sweat on his skin even with the aircon on as high as it was. He leaned back, raising up on his thighs so Harry could get the condom on himself. He watched, licking his lips at the sight of Harry’s hard cock. He’d have that inside him soon.

Harry dropped his hand after he put the condom on and Louis shuffled forward, positioning himself over Harry’s cock and then sinking down. He gasped and grabbed hold of Harry’s shoulders at the same time Harry gripped his hips, settling him. Helping him get the rest of the way down.

“Shit, you’re big,” Louis breathed out once he was the whole way down.

“You’re welcome,” Harry said and it was just non sequitur enough that it made Louis laugh.

He leaned forward, dragging his hips up, so he could kiss Harry. He started to move while still kissing Harry, the both of them gasping at the feeling. The temperature in the room was rising, Louis feeling himself getting hotter and hotter, closer and closer to the edge.

Harry kept whispering, telling Louis how good he felt, how tight he was, how grateful he was to be fucking him. It pushed Louis on, kept him going, making him work harder to get to the edge, to bring Harry to the edge with him.

Louis tipped over first, coming untouched in between their bodies. His body went rigid and he clenched tight enough around Harry’s cock that Harry couldn’t move. He could only stay still as Louis shuddered above him.

Louis slumped against him, kissing whatever skin he could find. He was only vaguely aware of Harry using his body to get off, thrusting into him at a lazy pace until he was coming too.

“You’re amazing,” Harry whispered, turning their heads to they could kiss. He was still nestled inside Louis, cock softening slowly, and they’d need to disentangle from each other soon.

But for now Louis was gonna stay right where he was.

***

“I’m not allowing you to keep an explicit sex scene,” Liam said over the phone.

“Is it because it’s gay? Because that’s homophobic, Liam.”

“No it’s because you’re an absolute disaster at writing sexual content, I really feel bad for anyone you have sex with. But also it’s too much. It doesn’t add anything extra to the story you’re telling.”

“But will it... do you think people will understand the depth of their relationship if they don’t have sex?” Louis asked.

“I think it’s very apparent Antoine and Ben love each other deeply and a sex scene doesn’t need to be written to show that.”

And Louis guessed that was that.

***

“I never thought I’d see that table clean,” Harry said as he looked around the now spotless house. The indoor patio was the biggest change, the table empty of all of Louis’ notes.

“It’s crazy right?” Louis asked. “And my draft is finished, which is also crazy. Really never thought it would be done, you know?”

“Well, it’s just the draft right? Now it goes off to your editor who’s gonna tear it all to shreds and make you take out all the romance angles with Ben and Antoine.”

“Liam already vetoed my sex scene,” Louis said sadly.

“It’s for the best.”

“Hey!”

“It really wasn’t that good.”

“You know I wrote it based off of-“

“Don’t finish that sentence if you expect to see me when you land in London tomorrow. I will not be so _offended_.”

“You know… I based Antoine off you.”

“A double-double agent who tortures people and has blood on his hands? Thanks. I think the only similarity I see is we both have green eyes.”

“I meant you’re my love interest.”

“Oh.” Harry licked his lips. “You’re getting better at these romance lines. Have you considered a queer bodice ripper for your next genre to flip on its head?”

Louis laughed so hard he doubled over.

***

_Dedicated to my Ella.  
Niall, I’ll buy you a beer for the royalties_

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed the fic feel free to leave kudos, a comment, or [reblog the tumblr post](https://sadaveniren.tumblr.com/post/186099485176/the-charles-compass-trilogy-by-sadaveniren)


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